


Epiphany

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gwent (The Witcher), Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Eskel and Geralt meet up just before winter and run an errand.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Request: [Hi *waves shyly*. I have a request for you if you're up for it. How about Geralt/Eskel where Eskel gets jealous when someone flirts with Geralt? We all know book!Geralt and game! Geralt give off a 'hoe on main' vibe. Eskel hates it and Geralt needs to make it up to him? Thanks for sharing your work, it honestly makes my day every single time ❤️] I'm softe. also, I love hoe on main geralt of rivia.

The fire is warm on the unscarred side of Eskel’s face. He breathes in deeply, the scent of smoke and ale tickling his senses. He’s been in Ard Carraigh for a few days now, waiting dutifully for Geralt to get here so that they can continue up to Kaer Morhen together. There’s still plenty of time for them to be able to safely travel up the mountain, but Eskel has found himself arriving earlier and earlier with each passing year. The door to the tavern swings open and Eskel glances up, his lip turning up slightly at what he finds. 

Geralt, black hood up and dripping with rainwater, pushes the door closed behind him. He walks straight to the barkeep and orders an ale and stew before turning to where Eskel sits. Eskel’s heart blooms when their eyes finally meet, and Geralt smirks a bit as he walks to sit at the table.

“You’re early.” Geralt’s low voice crawls over Eskel’s skin. Geralt undoes the knot on his cloak, letting it fall from his shoulders to drape over the back of his chair. His silver hair shines in the light from the fire, curled and damp from the downpour outside. 

Eskel takes a sip from his cup as the barkeep brings Geralt’s food and drink over. “Could say the same to you, Wolf.”

Geralt shrugs before tucking in to his supper. “Need a new horse, figured I’d pick one up while we were here.”

Eskel tilts his head, “Something happen to Roach? You’re not one to let your mount get into trouble.”

Geralt shakes his head, slurping noisily from his spoon. “Nah, she’s alright. She’s old, though. She deserves to rest, I figured I’ll bring her to Kaer Morhen and let her retire there with Vesemir.”

As if Eskel’s heart could melt any further. He watches Geralt as he lifts his bowl to his lips and his throat bobs as he drinks the remainder of the broth. Geralt’s tongue swipes over his lips as he returns the now-empty bowl to the table, and Eskel is sweating inside. 

“You got a room here?” Geralt asks, sliding an extra coin to the girl who picks up his bowl. 

Eskel nods, downing the rest of his ale. “Mhm, only got one bed though.”

Geralt hums before rising to his feet. “Well, come on. I know I’m exhausted, and you look like shit.”

Eskel huffs out a laugh as he stands as well. “Well, at least I don’t look like a drowned old rat.”

Geralt bumps their shoulders as they move to the stairs. Eskel opens up the door to their room and kicks his boots off by the door. Geralt has a routine, they all do. Eskel sits in one of the chairs and sets the fireplace alight with a gentle flick of his fingers, ready to discreetly watch Geralt get comfortable. 

His swords go next to the bed and his boots go next to Eskel’s at the door. Geralt drapes his cloak over the back of the other chair in the room so it has a chance to dry, and his gloves go in the seat. He unties a little pouch from his belt and tosses it onto the bed where it lands with a light  _ thunk.  _ Eskel’s eyes follow Geralt’s fingers as they pull and undo the shiny buckles and ties. His shirt is unbuttoned as he pulls the armor off, revealing the dark thatch of hair on his chest. Geralt tucks the heavy pieces next to his boots by the door, and Eskel swallows thickly at the sight of his leather-clad backside in those  _ damned pants.  _

Geralt stands and turns back to Eskel, his hands at the buttons of his trousers. “You gonna just sit there and watch, or you gonna help?”

Eskel’s eyes dart to his face and he flushes when he sees the smirk on his lips.  _ Dammit, caught.  _ Well, if nothing else, Eskel has always been good at thinking on his feet. “Seem to be doing just fine from where I’m sitting. I usually have to pay for a show like this.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and divests himself of his trousers, folding them over the back of the chair as well. “Come on, Eskel. Get in the bed.”

“You sure you don’t want to stretch out? Every time that we do this, I end up hanging on for dear life off the edge of the bed while you stretch out and snore to the Gods.”

Geralt hums as he turns to the mattress. Eskel walks up next to him and cups the back of his neck, pulling him close and resting their foreheads together. Geralt’s eyes close and Eskel just  _ listens  _ to the sound of their heartbeats intertwining after almost a year apart. He feels Geralt’s hand on his shoulder, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’ve missed you, Geralt,” Eskel whispers.

“Missed you too, Eskel.” Geralt’s voice is barely audible as his nose brushes against Eskel’s. They part reluctantly and Geralt sits at the foot of the bed. Eskel slips out of his own trousers before climbing in as well. Geralt reaches for the little pouch and loosens it, flipping the contents into his hand.

“Up for a game of Gwent?”

Eskel laughs, a true laugh that is so rare on the Path. Eskel leans over in search of his pack and pulls out a pouch of his own. “You’re on.”

* * *

Eskel wakes to a fully dressed Geralt looming over him at the edge of the bed. “Awake yet, Princess?”

Eskel groans as he runs his hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He peers out of the window and sees the sun just barely erupting from the horizon. “Why are you up so early?” 

Geralt picks up Eskel’s trousers and throws them, landing squarely in Eskel’s lap. “Need a horse. Then we can leave for Kaer Morhen.”

Eskel chuckles with a shake of his head before swinging his legs out of the bed. The floor is cold under his feet as he slides his legs into his trousers, his boots following soon after. “I’ll meet you downstairs, let me grab my stuff.”

Geralt nods and shoulders out of the door, leaving Eskel alone in the room. He gathers his things and throws his swords over his back, leaving his armor in his pack for the moment. Eskel yawns with finality and follows in Geralt’s wake down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom he sees Geralt toss him something and his hand instinctively reaches up to catch it. His fingers squish the soft pastry and the sweet smell of honey tickles his nose.

“Mmm,” Eskel hums with a smile, “a sweet bun. Thanks, Wolf.”

Geralt nods as he leads the way out of the inn. Eskel stops by the little stables at the rear to set his pack with Scorpion, trying desperately not to wake Lil’ Bleater where she slumbers between the stallion’s feet. Soon enough he trails along behind Geralt as they approach a large barn at the edge of town. 

A handsome young man smiles at them as they approach. He looks to be about thirty, with a mop of dark brown hair that flops around in the breeze. He looks  _ strong,  _ his shoulders wide and his hips sturdy. 

“Well met, Witchers,” the man calls as they walk up. His voice is low and rich as he introduces himself as Davold. Eskel hangs back, letting Geralt do the talking. As he observes, he notices the man dragging his eyes slowly down and back up Geralt’s body. The scent of lust in the air spikes and Eskel shifts a bit, glancing around minutely. 

“Why don’t we head inside and take a look at these horses?” Davold gestures to Geralt and allows him to go inside first. Eskel sighs and follows along. Geralt walks along the stalls, listening intently as Davold tells him about each of the horses and their personalities. Eskel listens as well, hearing each and every bawdy flirtation that spills from Davold’s lips, as well as the laughter and the pick up in heartrate in Geralt’s chest. 

Something burns in Eskel as he stands in front of a tall bay mare, something low and sour that boils in his blood. He huffs and holds his hand out flat to let the horse sniff at him. She snuffles against his hand for a moment before she butts against his chest.

“Oh no, not her,” Davold strolls over, Geralt at his heels. “She’s been nothing but trouble.”

Eskel looks back at the horse as he strokes down her nose, her ears perked up in curiosity and her body relaxed. “Doesn’t look like trouble to me.”

Geralt walks up next to Eskel and extends his hand as well, but he has a chunk of apple in his palm. The mare leans down and takes the apple gently before sniffing up his arm, looking for another treat. She looks him right in the eye before butting him in the chest as well, pulling a deep chuckle from Eskel. 

“Good find, Eskel,” Geralt murmurs, scritching up the side of the horse’s neck. “We’ll take her.”

A deal is struck and before Eskel knows it they are leaving the stables with the new Roach in tow, Davold scowling in the background. The two of them return to the inn to collect the other horses and as they enter the stables, Eskel can’t help the sigh of relief that falls from his chest. 

“Something wrong?” Geralt asks as he carries his saddle to New Roach. Eskel grits his teeth as he throws a blanket over Scorpion’s back. 

“No, I just-” Eskel thinks over his words, “That Davold was really trying for you, huh?”

Geralt pokes his head around and gives Eskel a look that can only be described as several question marks in sequence. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice it.” Eskel rolls his eyes as he sets the saddle on Scorpion’s back. “He could barely keep it in his pants.”

“Hmm.”

Eskel does up the straps and secures his pack neatly across Scorpion. As he ties everything down, his mind wanders.  _ I could never be enough for him, he deserves someone who could really be there for him, not someone like me.  _

“It doesn’t matter if I noticed or not,” Geralt rumbles from somewhere behind him. “I wouldn’t have been interested. Got someone else in mind.”

Eskel hums as his mind spins in wheels, a delicate spiral that will leave him curled up and alone for a good few days once they get to the keep. He can  _ feel  _ himself receding into his mind, setting up walls and barriers for any and all who come knocking.

And suddenly Geralt’s hand is on his shoulder, and he’s turning around, and Geralt is in his space, his face  _ impossibly  _ close, and he smells so  _ good,  _ and his mouth is  _ right there… _

And then Geralt kisses him. Geralt kisses Eskel, and the world comes to a halt. Geralt’s hands fall to Eskel’s waist and squeeze him, and Eskel reaches his hands up to cup Geralt’s face. He is so warm beneath Eskel’s fingers, and his lips taste like honey and hay and every drop of happiness that Eskel has ever felt. 

Geralt pulls back first, his golden eyes searching Eskel’s. “I-I have loved you for so long.”

Eskel’s chest feels full to burst and he doesn’t trust his words  _ at all,  _ so he just pulls Geralt back to him. It’s all tongue and teeth and desperation and Eskel wouldn’t change it for the world. His fingers trail up into Geralt’s hair and the moan that falls from his chest would make a priestess blush. Eskel leans back only far enough for a breath, resting their foreheads together once more.

“You let me pine after you for  _ decades,  _ Geralt,” Eskel whispers, painfully aware of how vulnerable he sounds. 

“I didn’t know. I figured you just thought of us as friends, but-” Geralt’s voice is so low and husky that Eskel can feel it in his skin, “-but I’ve figured it out. It took a while, but I figured it out.”

Eskel smiles and presses their lips together again, ignoring how his scar stretches with the movement. “I hope you plan on making it up to me.”

Geralt smiles, big and rare and  _ just for him,  _ “Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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